Since the Day of Independence

Hanada: This year marks a milestone for you.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: It’s my 20th year since becoming independent. And for the record, it’s also my 30th wedding anniversary—both on the same day, April 2.

Hanada: Congratulations. What an incredible coincidence. When you first became independent, did you have even the slightest idea that things would turn out as they have now…? No, probably not.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: I nearly went under right after going independent. When I came to Miyazaki, I had no money, no credibility. A bank employee told me, “We won’t lend you even a single yen.” I relied on a local pottery studio for a while… I’m still grateful to them.
Eventually, I forced myself into independence anyway. Even though I had plenty of time but no clients lined up, I kept producing at the same pace as when I worked at the kiln—800 to 900 pieces a day. But my inventory kept increasing, my kids kept growing… I thought, “This is bad…” (laughs).

Hints from Many Sources

Hanada: What kind of things did you make at the beginning?

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: Kohiki ware.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: Later, inspired by what I learned during my time at a Seto pottery studio, I started shaping those ideas in my own way. From there, I started making small ochazuke bowls and other items at the request of shops.

Hanada: Ochazuke bowls—those sound wonderful.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: I paid close attention to the height and the angle of the bowl’s rise.
If you get those wrong, the bowl becomes incredibly hard to use (laughs).
A food company even used them in a TV commercial.

Hanada: That must have introduced your work to many people.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: I also worked on simple pieces with little decoration. And here in Kobayashi City, the cultural sphere is close to Satsuma, so I wondered if I could use Satsuma-style ivory glaze for something. But calling it actually “Satsuma ware” would be disrespectful to the original, so I changed the name (laughs).

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: From there, I began adding lines, carving patterns, increasing colors.
I also experimented with expressions reminiscent of Kiseto or Oribe, but calling them by those names directly would upset the people who are doing the real thing. So I changed the names and added my own arrangements.

The Birth of Carving Work

Hanada: Even though you aimed for simplicity, you ended up adding more and more decoration, which eventually led to your carved work.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: Around that time, at an exhibition, I was playing with a customer’s child who had brought a kaleidoscope.
When I looked through it, I was amazed that infinite patterns could emerge from so few pieces. I realized my carving tools were the same.
Even with just a few chisels, combining them expands the range of expression.
By adjusting carving depth and glaze, the process became closer to “painting with carving.”

Hanada: So many discoveries layered together.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: Another reason I started carving was that “painting with a brush” never quite fit me.
Originally, I studied sometsuke at the training school in Seto, and thought I could handle it.
I started teaching my wife, who helps me, acting all high and mighty—but she had a better instinct for it, and within six months she surpassed me.

Hanada: (laughs)

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: So “drawing through carving” felt like a path opening up. I remembered my grandfather’s woodcarving work and thought, “I want to do something like that.” I practiced and ended up where I am today.

Recent Work

Hanada: Are there things you’ve been thinking about or working on recently?

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: With all the natural disasters and accidents lately, I’ve been exploring motifs that might serve as charms or talismans.
For example, the Four Symbols—Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise.
To avoid making them too realistic, I turned the Azure Dragon’s scales, the Vermilion Bird’s decorative feathers, and the Black Tortoise’s snake into continuous patterns… But the White Tiger gave me the most trouble—because, well, it’s white. Even when I tried to stylize it, it somehow ended up looking like “an old veteran who’s lost his edge” (laughs).　I’ll refine it more.
Also, I’ve been increasingly using nearby things as motifs.　In winter, Daurian redstarts often visit the garden—they’re adorable—so I used them too.　I also want to show something like the breath of craftsmanship, reminiscent of my grandfather’s woodworking—like the marks left by a chisel.

Hanada: Was there a particular trigger for these changes?

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: Maybe it’s age… Also, people like Mr. Fujitsuka (artist Mitsuo Fujitsuka) retiring, or my children becoming independent… A lot of sad changes overlapped.
And only recently have I finally started writing ideas down in a notebook.

Hanada: Until now…?

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: I used to think it was better *not* to have an idea notebook.
I’m bad at copying classical designs or following examples. Even when I played in a band, I didn’t like being in a cover band—you’d always be compared to the original: “good,” “bad,” “wrong”… So I figured it was faster to just write our own songs. That way, there were no “mistakes.” I’d say things like, “This is just a slightly unusual chord progression.”

Hanada: (laughs)

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: So having an idea notebook felt like having a “model” that would limit how far I could go.
But recently, even ideas I was sure I had vanish when it’s time to create. And while my ideas used to be relatively simple, lately they’ve gotten more complex, and I can’t organize them in my head anymore (laughs).
So when I was looking for a notebook, I found one in my son’s room—a perfect blank one. When I opened it, only the first page had notes, the rest were blank. It was so like him that I had to laugh.

Hanada: He probably never imagined his notebook would be used for that purpose.

Through Objects…

Hanada: Is there anything you hope to work on going forward?

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: I want to make things that people—regardless of generation—who aren’t familiar with tableware can “try taking home.”
At an exhibition once, a customer told her husband, who had just tagged along, “It’s fun when your tableware changes,” and it really struck me. I hope I can convey that kind of joy through my work.

Hanada: You really love “fun,” don’t you. And you always talk about anything—any episode—with such joy.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: For example, even with the openwork pieces I was making at the time—if I said carving them wasn’t physically hard, that’d probably be a lie. But if I let myself think or say “it’s painful,” then that’s the end of it, isn’t it?
It would make even the people who choose to use those pieces feel burdened.

From Here On

Hanada: For 20 years since independence, your wife has always been by your side.

Wife: As the children grow, various things happen, don’t they? Even in all that, he always thinks about the family and really does his best.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: No, you can tell the truth. Just say it normally (laughs).

Wife: That *is* the truth…

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: My wife is a person of great patience. It may sound strange coming from me, but she really puts up with a lot. Even when I say, “I want to enter a motorcycle race,” she just says, “Okay, have fun.”

Wife: Even if I objected, you’d end up going anyway (laughs).

Hanada: It sounds like there’s a lot to look forward to in the future as well.

Tokuhiro Masubuchi: Well, I know full well I don’t have a head for business. I’ve gotten this far simply because I love pottery—nothing more than that, really. Well, I’ll just keep doing my best as I have been.


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